


The Alien That Fell To Earth

by Evil_Squirrel



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Current Events Reference, Gen, Interrogation, Past Character Death, Torture, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Squirrel/pseuds/Evil_Squirrel
Summary: Posadist was arrested for "counterrevolutionary activities" which means either he did something he didn't remember, some mistake happened (probably not) or it's his turn to be purged. Today, he gets interrogated by an unexpected comrade. The question isn't if the situation is pointless, the question is how pointless it is.Day 11: Defiance
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962403
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	The Alien That Fell To Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be edgy crack first and it shows.
> 
> Also, wrote this before the new videos came out.
> 
> Edit (14. 10. ): It just occurred to me that I forgot the Whumptober tag, but also... if you stumble upon this and you don't know anything about Centricide... huh, must look weird to you.

The man currently interrogating him left, mumbling curses through his teeth. For a moment, Posadist was left alone in peace. Now that he was just staring at the empty white wall, all of his aches felt even more intense and the sirens of doom in his head turned louder. It made him feel almost thankful when he heard noises outside the room.

“I swear I will get it out of him, please!” Wait… did that mean that the man was in serious trouble? Oh, no. That would be very unfortunate…

Posadist’s heart sank when the other person only whispered something and not even in an enough condescending tone. When the door opened and he saw his new torturer, his heart sank even further.

“What are you doing here?” No matter how important a prisoner was – and there were prisoners more important than him – he never heard that anyone from the leadership would go to visit them. In fact, as far as he remembered, he was the only one from the leadership who visited a prisoner in a cell.

“I’m just here to visit a fellow comrade, Posadist,” Tankie said, arms crossed on his chest. “I heard you still haven’t confessed.”

Posadist just stared as Tankie’s words were reaching distant corners of his brain. It might have been partly due to the denial, but the dull headache didn’t help much just as the dry throat reminding him of his thirst didn’t.

“What? What are you doing? Are you trying to be a good cop or something?”

Tankie laughed, shaking his head. “Good cop? That sounds like I came here to talk to you like some peace-loving liberal, holding your hand!”

His laughing stopped. “Seriously though. I’m going to be exactly the cop you deserve. We might be comrades, but you denying your counterrevolutionary activities is actively harming the neo-Soviet state which means that if I have to use violence on you, I will.”

If there was one thing Posadist never doubted, it was Tankie’s willingness to use violence for the greater good. They were quite similar in that as they both understood that violence was necessary to achieve their goals and there was no point in pretending that they thought something else. That was the reason he despised Anarcho-Pacifist; he didn’t get why that man could be a regular pacifist while Posadist was regarded weird or wacky for his maybe not entirely rational, but definitely less delusional beliefs.

“Just say you did it. That’s all. You will get your punishment, but it’s not something I would execute you for. Just say you did it.”

“No.” There were exactly zero reasons why he should believe that he would get a better treatment after a confession.

“Fine, differently. Where were you when you were arrested?” Tankie shoved his face far too much into Posadist’s view.

“I was on my way to the dolphins.” Was he on the way to dolphins? Or was he on the way from the dolphins? He recalled the morning of the last day he was free, but not much past that. He was sure he was arrested outside though so he must’ve been on the way.

“You were visiting dolphins?” Tankie laughed, as if he didn’t know that Posadist spent much of his time at the Charkovsky-2 research facility with the dolphins they trained and observed there. “You aren’t a scientist, why would anyone allow you inside?”

“I communicated with them.” He didn’t really think Tankie would believe him, but it would be worse if he tried to come up with something on the spot after he told the same story all the other torturers.

“You talk with dolphins? Please, tell me it’s a code name for some counterrevolutionary and you don’t think you can talk to dolphins.”

“What’s so unbelievable about that so sudden? I’m an alien.”

“Did you hurt your head when you fell to Earth?” Tankie continued shaking his head. “Besides, if you were there, you were probably slacking off; what you were hiding from?”

“I had nothing else to do. I was the assistant.” Posadist wanted to add that he could ask the scientists, but honestly, it would be better if he left them alone.

“Fine then. You were,” Tankie sighed, “talking to dolphins. Or rather, you wanted to talk to them, but you were arrested. Is that what you say?”

“Yes.” Tankie stared at him without blinking for a moment, just to avert his eyes when Posadist stared back at him. Even in his state, Posadist’s stare still held its strength and eeriness.

All of this began longer time ago. Longer than he was imprisoned. Back in the twenties, when America was going through one catastrophe to another. As it seemed a civil war was about to happen, strange pamphlets and posters appeared. Karl Marx and his “ _Under no pretext should arms and ammunition be surrendered; any attempts to disarm the people must be stopped, by force if necessary”_ quote were on them, along with text that said _“This is the future leftists want. Do you still want a gun?”_ In a matter of short time, the Nazbol Empire rose again.

“That’s some impressive marketing.” Posadist remembered himself congratulating to Nazbol.

“Me? Pft, it was probably the centrist cucks,” Nazbol laughed. Shortly after that, Tankie seized the means of nostalgia with his ‘Maybe it wasn’t always great, but it was better than now’ speech and started recreating the USSR.

“Do you know how we talked about the pandemic back then? I told you that people would rather protest for their right to die than fight against the system that caused the catastrophe in the first place. I’m glad I was mis-”

“Do you know that I’m talking to you?” Tankie interrupted his flashback. His voice was ringing and echoing in Posadist’s ears. At this point, it would be easier for Posadist to say which area of his body didn’t hurt. 

“You know… I was thinking,” Posadist said with no change of expression.

“What about?” Tankie raised his eyebrows.

“Sometimes I think that you’re actually a pretty shit friend.” This was about the most compromising thing he was willing to say.

Tankie laughed. “Good that you’re not losing your sense of humor. You will need it.”

Posadist knew that he wouldn’t need it for long. There were two outcomes – either he confessed, went through a trial and was executed as guilty – no matter what Tankie said – or didn’t confess, stayed here, died and people would come to the conclusion he was guilty anyway. Yet, he wasn’t giving up.

“I still don’t get why you won’t just admit it though. I told you that nothing will happen to you. Just say you did it. Don’t be so stubborn.”

He heard this thing from the other interrogators too, just not that nicely. He would surely hear it few more times. He heard it screamed, he saw it shone into his eyes or poured on him when they woke him up; one time, an interrogator showed up with a cup of coffee as if to say that he could have this too. While it made Posadist far too aware of his painful hunger and even the memory of the smell caused him nausea, he knew that there were no cups of coffee for those deemed traitors.

“If it’s such a non-issue, why am I being tortured?” On second thought, this question might be too daring.

“Tortured? Comrade, you feel tortured? This is an interrogation.”

Posadist tried to shift into a less uncomfortable position, but there was none. He was sure that after this would be over, he wouldn’t be able to get up and walk on his own, but comrades would surely help him. After that, he would get some salty bread and a glass of water and some time to sleep before they woke him up to interrogate him again and again.

“Well, would you tell me with whom did you talk that day?”

“The scientists.” He knew there was no one else he could talk to as he cut all of his other contacts some time ago. However, part of him felt uneasy about the possibility that Transhumanist tried to message him again during the time he was here.

Tankie sighed again. “Look, you’re just wasting our resources. Your unwillingness to help the worker’s state by confessing is, dare I say, counterrevolutionary. You’re standing in the way of workers liberation.” Counterrevolutionary and revisionary, both Tankie’s favorite words. Couldn’t he shut up?

There were many other men who were arrested for something similar. Posadist still remembered what happened to Socialist – allegedly, he planned a coup. The trial went for far too long for Posadist’s taste and he was sure he wasn’t the only one tired there. Tankie kept expressing his disappointment whenever Socialist denied the claims against him. After quite a time, the already unusually pale and shaking Socialist broke down in tears.

“You know what? I wish I did something! I do! I wish… I wish!” While Socialist never said he did it, this moment of his was regarded as enough proof that he supported a possible coup. Back then, it seemed just plain stupid to start screaming something like that, but after ages of sitting on the chair, getting questioned and starved, Posadist started understanding the sentiment.

Sure, he might be on better terms with Tankie – being friends and all – than Socialist was, but that meant nothing. Tankie maybe had a breakdown after killing Ancom, but he did it. If he could kill someone he might have considered a lover at times then Posadist wasn’t safe. Besides, he saw Tankie snapping other men necks.

“You’re not helping yourself,” Tankie said. His tone grew more impatient.

“How can I help myself?” Posadist tilted his head. The answer was predictable.

“Stop lying. That’s what children do. Be a man and face your fate.”

“You know I’m not lying. You keep me here because you want to.”

Suddenly, Tankie’s fist flew through air, avoiding Posadist at all. “I never saw anyone with such a terrible aim.” Despite grinning, he felt himself more and more drained.

Tankie stared at him, frozen in the pose, fumbling. Almost comical.

“You have feelings of camaraderie towards me? That’s so nice. It would be nicer if you didn’t hold me here though.” Poor Tankie, getting defeated by a moment of sentiment. That must’ve hurt! What would his colleagues say about this? Wasn’t this quite counterrevolutionary behavior? Shouldn’t he be arrested as well?

“It would be nicer if you didn’t lie. Again – where were you when they arrested you?” Tankie shoved his hands into pockets, walking in circles around Posadist.

“I already told you that…”

“Where were you exactly? Which street?” Posadist tried to recall the name of the street he told the other men. He didn’t quite remember where they arrested him so he just picked a street that was on the way.

“Naberezhnaya.”

Tankie looked at him. “I got told it was Chelyabinskaya.”

“The other guy yelled at me it was Mira,” Posadist said and in any other situation, he would chuckle at this. 

“Well, one of us has surely the correct information,” Tankie raised his voice. “Cut it with the humor though. I don’t know who you expect to believe your dolphin story. Me and my comrades want to know the truth. You’re going to be interrogated until you admit you went against the workers state. Just…”

“Just say you did it. You repeat it a lot.” Posadist knew deep inside he was trying his luck too much, but he knew that if Tankie hurt him, it would hurt Tankie as well, which was something he couldn’t say about the other men. 

Tankie shook his head again. “I’m starting to doubt your loyalty, comrade. Honestly, what have you ever done to deserve my trust? Tell me, were you ever loyal to me?”

“I was loyal to you.” He meant to say this louder, but ages of not drinking were showing off.

Tankie stared at him blankly for a moment before he slapped him. “You said you were loyal to me?”

“Yes, I was…” Before Posadist could say anything else, Tankie pulled his hair, making the whole chair move.

“You said you were. That means you aren’t.” His hand yanked Posadist’s antenna. “Is that a confession?”

“I’m loyal,” Posadist gritted through his teeth. Tankie stared at him for a moment before he hastily let go of him. The chair rocked so much it made Posadist worry and now, his antenna joined the rest of his body in hurting.

If he was ever loyal, there was no way he could continue after this. What did loyalty look like though? Was him hoping for a nuclear war between the new state and the capitalist states loyalty? When he thought about it, he mostly showed critical support. There were many things to criticize, but this was an opportunity that might not repeat itself which was why he didn’t try to go against the state.

If there was a point when his faith in the experiment rapidly lowered, it was the day before Anpac’s execution.

“Everybody knows he’s innocent,” Posadist told Tankie. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone blow up something. If you execute him, they will make a martyr out of him.”

“You think I don’t know that? My men interrogated him and they got nothing else from him. No names, no clues, nothing. If he came here and confessed on his own that he did it and if he’s covering for the real culprit, then he must agree with it to some level.” Tankie sat there with arms crossed on his chest while Posadist was frustrated with Tankie potentially undermining all of their work.

“You know what I think of him, but he’s quite popular among people for some reason and this could spiral out-”

“Do I hear correctly? Posadist and being afraid of a conflict?” Tankie laughed. “Unbelievable!”

“Look, I’m for war, but this would just weaken us, not the capitalists. We don’t need a civil unrest now. Can’t you think of literally any other way you could get rid of him or discredit him?”

“The execution is scheduled.” He wasn’t sure what frustrated him more – Tankie’s obsession with his schedule or Anpac doing something so illogical.

He walked into Anpac’s cell and found him peacefully sitting on his bed, not minding the disgusting wetness of the room. “Why are you doing this?”

Anpac looked at him, not a muscle in his face moved. “I won’t tell you anything.”

“You know what you got yourself into, hmm?” Posadist tilted his head to side.

“I know what will happen.” Anpac looked him directly in the eyes and he was one of the few people who didn’t cover from his stare. “I’ve got my reasons to do it. Tell me, do you have something to die for?”

“The defeat of capitalism.” Anpac gave him a slight nod.

“As expected. We might agree on that, but not on the methods.” Anpac lowered his voice. “Maybe we weren’t on the best terms, but I hope you won’t end up here.”

For a while, they were just staring through each other, disregarding the mumbles of the guards.

“I could tell you something though,” Anpac said, not trying to whisper.

“When the civil war broke out in America, I overheard some of the guys wanting to attack my friends. So I tried to convince them not to do it and… the Marx posters are my doing. However,” he said, raising his finger, “I’m not trying to end myself out of guilt. I know I did the right thing. Can you say the same?”

And he could. He did the right thing. He did all the right things. Too bad it led him to be in a cell similar to Anpac’s while he was waiting for his fate.

“Have you ever found out who was behind the Marx gun thing?” Why didn’t he try this sooner?

“You happen to know?” Tankie raised his eyebrows.

“Anpac. He told me before he died.”

Tankie laughed. “That’s pretty ironic. Thanks for the information. However, this is not why you are here.”

“Am I scheduled?” This was a question he should’ve asked sooner.

“Not yet.” For some reason, to a part of his mind this seemed even more terrifying than the prospect of an execution. At least with that, he would get a clear date when this would end, he would finally learn how much time he spent here and he would be sure he wouldn’t rot somewhere deep under Moscow. Another part of his mind noted that Tankie might keep visiting him and one day, he might find him rotting and if he was going down he hoped to leave a lasting mark on Tankie.

“Will I get a trial?” Posadist knew his voice was steadily losing his edge and he was almost whispering at this point and it made him even more uncomfortable.

“Every comrade gets a trial. Will you admit then? Will you sign the confession?” Oh, that paper. They put that in front of him from time to time. Posadist wondered how he was supposed to sign something with his wrists restrained behind his back, but maybe the immortal science of Marxism-Leninism had answers.

“No.”

Tankie immediately opened his mouth and went on a rant, but Posadist refused to make sense of the words anymore.

It was enough. There was no need for him to say anything, no need for him to try to explain himself as Tankie wouldn’t believe him, no need for him… to do anything. He was tired, exhausted even. There might be a way out of this though. He started rocking his chair, closed his eyes and fell. He could feel immediately Tankie catching him and trying to wake him up. Touching. Maybe Tankie still wanted them to be comrades.

Too bad he didn’t want it enough not to do this.


End file.
